The Boogeyman
by grey-sage
Summary: A student comes face to face with their fears when reading the short story The Boogeyman. This encounter leads the boogeyman to question himself especialy after meeting a little girl.
1. Student

Disclaimer: I don't own the story The Boogeyman by Stephen King. Nor do I profit by my use of it.

Authors Note: This story came to me rather late at night and I couldn't go to sleep until I finished it (witch took longer than you would think).

** The Boogeyman  
**  
I shivered closing the book in front of me. Reading a Steven King story on my first night of officially living alone was probably not the best decision of my life. I looked around my small bedroom. Checking nervously for unidentifiable shapes. I had only moved into the apartment, my first apartment, that morning. Having spent two years in college dorm I was looking forward to the peace and quiet my own place would provide. Now though, I wasn't so sure.

It was dark, the only illumination coming from a small book light I used to read. The room was mostly empty aside from a few boxes stacked in one corner and the mattress I currently lay on pushed against a wall. Right next to me the closet, a word that after reading this story would never be the same to me, had its doors gaping open as if into a dark abyss. The boogeyman would always leave the closet open a crack.

I chuckled nervously. I was being stupid it was just a story. Of course it was just a story. A large boom sounded and I jumped nearly two feet. Walking over to the single 1-foot by 1-foot window in the room I stood on my toes to reach the sill. Outside I could hear the soft patter of rain, growing faster and faster till its sound was constant. Lightning streaked across the sky and the deep grumble of thunder followed. Silly, stupid, stupid, stupid. It was just thunder.

Stop it, I thought. I wasn't a kid anymore. I was a grown up with my own apartment. Grown ups weren't afraid of thunderstorms and they certainly weren't afraid of made up stories. They were afraid of their bosses, the stock market, and stuff like that but not stories.

I glanced at my watch its red letters blinked 12:04. I better get to bed I thought. The professor of my 7:30 am philosophy class would probably not be to amused when I tried to explain I missed his exam because of a story.

I lay back down on my mattress hugging a pillow tightly. I left the book light on. I lay there starring at the open doors of the closet, searching for movement in the deep recesses of its darkness.The sounds of the storm raged on in the background. This was ridiculous. I got up to close the closet doors but hesitated my hand on the knob. I could just make sure nothing was in there. It wouldn't hurt.

I picked up my book light holding it for a second before tossing it gently inside. The space becoming suddenly illuminated. It was empty except for a few hangers. Relief washed over me. Relief? Why would I feel relief? Of course the closet was empty. All my clothes were still in boxes. I could not deny though, I felt reassured when I lay back down, even safe. Safe how stupid. I had nothing to feel safe from.

I starred at the book light for what must have been hours; making sure its heartening light was still there. I tried to ignore it at first but I noticed how slowly the glow grew darker. The damn batteries must of been running out and I didn't have anymore.My stomach turned sickly as I watched helplessly as the light finally went out.

I shivered, fear gripping me for some unexplainable reason. I was beyond berating myself for my childish behavior. All thought was gone from my head as I watched the closet unable to tear away my gaze.

Oh, god. Shear terror flooded through me. I was unable to move as I heard crackling laughter come from the closet. It came closer and closer, through the blackness. "So nice," the voice from the closet said.

"So nice." The words sounded as if they might have come through a mouthful of rotted seaweed. "So nice, that story is so nice. Always gives people a bit of a scare." And I continued to lay on my mattress holding my pillow tightly. To petrified to move as the boogeyman came closer and closer.


	2. Boogeyman

_Authors note: I was going to make this a one shot but then I got a review asking me to please continue and well it got me thinking especially about the Boogeyman's point of view (with is what this chapter is told in by the way) so here we go...  
_  
I slithered back into the closet my job done, a college student this time. So fun, so fun my little game is. The girl was unusually easy to scare. You see terror is in my nature, I love to cause it, be near it, feel it flooding into a persons very been. I tend to take my time dragging out a persons fear over days, weeks, months, even years.

I felt sorry for this one though. Hmmmm...I might be loosing my touch, having this feeling of what should I call it maybe guilt? In the story she read, a true story, it paints me as a monster. Maybe I am but a necessary one. The story only gave one point of view.

I always have a reason for my actions. I prevent things. People assume they have free will, maybe they do I'm not sure. What I do know is if given the chance that student, that man's entire family from the story would of ruined the world. It's my job to keep this from happening.

Though maybe the student didn't deserve to die. Her action would have been accidental. I know it's my job to scare her to make her pay for what she would do but still...

Others are easier. I can see the horror they would cause and can make them fear there own shadow for an eternity as payment. Ones like that I don't even bother to kill. No, they are all in padded rooms with wild looks in there eyes. They won't be able to do anything to the world from there.

It's a cruel job I know but it has to be done. I often wonder if there are others like me. To be honest I don't know. I simply don't know. Sometimes, I hope so. To know I'm not the only one who feels how I do around horror. Sometimes, I hope not, for the very same reason.

At points like this, like now, I feel sick about myself. I don't care if my feelings are in my nature they still are wrong. But then again is there really a wrong. What is wrong but a general consensus of people on what you should and should not feel. Then again if there is no wrong than why am I hurting these people?

I just get my orders and follow them. Hey, I don't even know why I follow them or were they are from. It could be god, if he exist, or than again it could just as easily be the devil.

All I know is the only pleasure I get is from the pain of others and even that is beginning to wane.


	3. Karen

_Authors Note: I'm sorry if I didn't make it clear but the college student did die between the 1st and 2nd chapter. This is also turning into a bit of an angsty fic so if the boogeyman's spending a little to much time on his feelings I'll try to get away from that a little and have more of a story. Anyway, this chapter is also told from the boogeyman's perspective. Enjoy.  
_  
I shook myself out of my thoughts. I realized I had been standing in front of the college student's closet for a while. I shouldn't be thinking of her so much my job was done. Her, I didn't even know what her name was. It didn't matter I was done I should be thinking about my next job. I hesitated for a moment then went over to one of the boxes stacked in the corner of her room and opened.

On top was a picture with the girl and several other people in front of a large building. I had seen before. Searching my memories I came up with the name Monticello. That's right the home of the man who founded the girls university. One of my jobs had studied him.

They all looked so happy. The girl was smiling and a boy had one arm around her waist and the other above her head in bunny ears. Four other boys and two other girls were also in the picture all smiling. Why was it so easy for humans to just be with each other? They had no idea how lucky they were. I threw the picture on the floor startled. Where had that thought come from? Who cares what humans do?

Next I found a ratty stuffed cat. It looked like it must have been at least ten years old. How, stupid to hold on to something so worthless for so long.

Next was a journal. I flipped through it. The first page read Karen's Journal Keep Out. So, Karen was the girl's name. I clutched it one hand tightly as I used the other to rummage through the rest of her stuff. I found everything from candles to old love letters. Finally, when I had finished going through all the boxes I stood there in a daze.

I had never done that before. Never gone through a job's stuff. Never found out there name on purpose there was no reason to. I walked back towards the closet refusing to let myself look around the small room again. That was stupid. Stepping into the closet I stepped into my world. A place were only I went.

It was deadly silent and dark to. A blackness that went on forever with no beginning or end. Every ten feet it was interrupted by blinding white rectangles of light. These were the entrances to different doors all over the world. Every door in existents could be entered through here.

I suddenly realized that I still had Karen's journal in my hand. I was about to through it into one of the doors but then stopped and placed in gently on the ground for me to find later. I could of found anything in here, from the door to the one closet that led to my job to the little journal I had just placed in the infinite space that was my world.

I then told my self to stop thinking of Karen, not Karen, my last job, to stop thinking about my last job and start thinking about my new one. Except I didn't have a new one. They came to me in visions and I had been so busy thinking about Ka...my last job that I had not realized I had not had one.

This was not unusual. I could wait a long time between jobs and like I said I usually spend more time on one then I did this time. So, I figured I'd visit one of my old jobs. This was one of the worst ones. One of those that is in a padded room. Usually, a job's mind takes over my task and they create their own nightmares. But sometimes I like to check up on them just to make sure. This job, what he would do, nothing I did would come close to punishing him enough.


	4. Michael

_Authors Note: Wow, this story is turning out a lot longer and a lot more angsty than I planed_.  
  
I traveled across my world toward the door I was looking for. It lead to a broom closet, only twenty feet from my old job's room. Don't ask me how I knew this, I just did. I always knew what I needed to.

I reached the door and stepped through. I traveled along the corridor of the hospital. Doctors passed me by but didn't notice me. No one did unless I wanted them to.

When I got to Michael's room I slipped under the crack of the door. I can do that to squeeze under small spaces, it's as if I don't exist except to my jobs. A shadow created from their nightmares.

I never understood why there were some people I didn't kill. It was just something I felt like doing. They were always the ones who felt good and excited because of the damage they caused. When I thought about it I realized they were like me. Enjoying the terror they would bring. Maybe it was how I showed my underlying disgust for myself that I hid even from me.

Wow, Michael was worst off then the last time I saw him. Humans, had a word for his look I think it was psycho. The room was bright white with padded walls and no furniture. Michael sat cross-legged in the middle in a stray jacket. His hair reached down to his shoulders, it was jet black and greasy. His eyes were black coals with dark smudges underneath. It didn't look like he was eating and he swayed forward and backward.

"Hello, Michael. Its so nice to see you." I chuckled. He looked up.

"You," he said. I laughed and began to pace slow circles around my job. Then I stopped. I was out of ideas. How was I be out of ways to create terror? I never was. It was in my nature to cause fear and I always did it creatively. How was I out of ideas?

Michael began to laugh hysterically. "What come to kill me? What did I do to you?! Huh, tell me! TELL ME! TELL ME!" He repeated tell me over and over in a high piercing voice.

I could hear feet running in the background. The doctors probably realized Michael was acting up. I shrunk back into the shadows as four people in white rushed in. One was holding a needle. If they were that prepared he must do that a lot. Michael continued to cry out "TELL ME! TELL ME!" Tears were now streaming down his face as the doctors wrestled him to the ground and plunged the syringe into his writhing body.

I slowly slipped back to the closet. I no longer felt like hurting anyone. What was happening to me? I never failed to not enjoy torturing someone like Michael and I certainly never ran out of ideas.

Back in my own world I sunk to the floor. Suddenly, pictures of a young girl flashed across my mind. She was about four with curly golden hair and big bright blue eyes. Then I saw a picture of the same girl in her late twenties. She was wearing a lab coat and appeared to be in a scientific lab. She was helping some man in his fifties. She pushed a button and then... No time to think of myself now I had my next job.


	5. Karly

_Authors Note: I changed the rating to PG-13 because of how the stories working out. I don't really think its PG-13 but then again I don't think its PG either. I always thought there should be a rating in-between. Also, just an interesting fact I didn't realize this until I finished but the little girl's room looks a lot like mine did when I was little. Anyway have fun reading._

I walk toward the door leading to my next job slowly giving myself time to think of what to do. Images had flooded my mind about the girl. Her actions would be accidental. A pity. I was looking forward to someone cruel. Someone, who I could make like Michael. Someone who the only reason I found out there name was so I could torture them better not like...

Hmmm...the girl would be fun anyway. I would take my time on her. Drag her pain out for several months. I needed to get back into my old rhythm of things.

I reached her closet and peered through. I had arrived in the early hours of the morning and no one was around but her. I crept into the room careful not to make a sound, not yet anyway. The room was a serene picture of happiness, lit by the soft glow of a Mickey Mouse nightlight with crayons, markers, and paper littering the floor. The room was a soft pink with colorful pictures of scribbles, probably done by the girl, hanging on the wall. By the time I was through with her they would look a lot different.

Hmmm...doing something with her drawings was not a bad idea. I went over to the closest one and touched it, covering it in green slime.

Mobiles of fairies and birds hung from the ceiling and on a shelf there was a collection of Beringstein Bears books and plastic horses. Against one wall there was the bed and inside the sleeping girl.

She looked so peaceful like a little angel. Her big beautiful eyes were closed and large yellow curls of hair fell over her face. The girl's chest rose slowly with each breathe and she wore a soft white nightgown.

I reached out to push back the hair from her face, and then stopped. What was I doing? I was here to hurt her. HURT HER. Suddenly, the girl stirred and I stood frozen, unable to move, unable to melt back into the shadows.

The girl opened her eyes. They were aqua blue, so innocent. She looked at me for a while than said in the sweetest voice possible "I'm Karly. Who you?"

Huh, wasn't she afraid of me? I was terrifying looking. That was the point. I was the essence of fear. My job was to horrify. I was to stunned to think replying weakly, "I'm the Boogeyman."

"Ello Boogeyman." We stood there for a while just staring at each other. Her big blue eyes seeming to see right through how I looked, my job, my past, everything. Finally, I heard the sound of footsteps.

Karly must of to because she said. "Daddies coming. You beta hide. Daddy no like visitors."

She seemed to shiver and I blurted out without thinking (something common after meeting the girl) "Do you like Daddy?"

She nodded no. "Daddy mean. Daddy hurt mommy and me. Please, go before Daddy hurt you to." She had put her hands around herself and curled up into a ball.

"Do you want to leave Daddy?"

"No can, I'm only four."

The footsteps were getting louder and louder. They sounded irregular like the person making them was stumbling. I only had a moment to decide.

"KARLY!" A loud voice came from the hall. "Karly Daddy's coming. Karly!"

I scooped up the little girl into my hands. She immediately began to cling to my neck. We had just moved back into the shadows when her father (I presumed) opened the door and the seemingly perfect little world of Karly's room was shattered.

He was swaying around drunkenly with a bottle of bear in his hand. He must have been at least 250 pounds with most of that sitting in his potbelly. He looked like he had not showered in days and his hair was greasy. Saliva dribbled down from the corner of his mouth.

We watched from safety as he began yelling out "Karly, Daddy's home. Karly were are you! Karly! You know it will be worst the longer it takes me to find you." Karly began to whimper in my neck as this happened and I uncounsously began to pat her back.


End file.
